Kraydal's Assassin
by DrakeTheFake12
Summary: Being a assasin for hire forces one to witness a load of strange things, but when this red-headed hired sword finds a magic mirror that sends him 2000 years into the future, all pale in comparison to Cloud and the gang.
1. Chapter 1

a/n: The first chapter will be really short, but the rest will be longer due to all the awsomeness that needs to be in it.

Disclamer: Though not in this chapter, I do not own any of the Final Fantasy VII characters (though, if I did, the things I would do to Sephy...mmmmm).

Chapter 1

The sun beams streaming through Autunm colored leaves and a light breeze played like childhood friends within his vibrant crimson hair, giving it the apperance of a dancing fire. With his bright blue, almost glowing eyes, he surveyed the small village below from his vantage piont on the towering cliff.

"You sure he'll be down there?" he asked rather unconvinced. "Looks like too shabby a town for someone like him to stay in, if you ask me."

The reply was so quiet that if he did not possesed the hyper-sensitive he had, he would have missed it.

"I'm sure," said a weak female voice. The girl next to him was no one special, just another damsel-in-destress bimbo who felt the need to kill her gaurdian in order to aquire his vast amounts of money. Though it really was not his place, he wondered what could have tempted these maidens to hate the very people who had taken care of them their entire lives.

_I do hate these family squabbles. They almost remind me of-_

"Home." he mused aloud.

The insignifigant brunete gave a quizitive side glance to the assassin for hire. After a fit of light snickers, he waved her unspoken question away.

_Nothing. A feble mind like yours wouldn't possibly understand what a _real _family goes through._

With that last thought, the would-be warrior uttered one last thing to the second-hand murderer before jumping to the houses below.

"Have the money ready when I get back."


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: Alright, here is chapter 2 of my story. Oh, and a BIG thank you to my new friend Scribe~Of~RED for pointing out that my story only uploaded about a fourth of this. Huge chocolate cake for you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of the characters, though controling Sephy would be awsome.

Chapter 2: The Deed Was Almost Done

Though the shannty town looked as if it was deserted, he knew better. He could hear the uneven breathing of terrorfied townsfolk coming from the locked shutters on every window. He could see the curious eyes of little children peeking from the cracks in walls. Hell, the hot-headed assassin could practically smell the very fear that permeated this place.

_If I didn't know better, I would say that these lovely people were expecting me_, he thought while passing several uninhabitable homes.

It wasn't long before the red-head came upon a squant looking man with whisps of, what looked like, white hair. It was hard to tell, seeing as the man was wearing a large brown cloak, hood drawn up.

"Yo, Long-hair!" he called out in a deep Southern drawl.

"You think you be the first that little missy has sent here? Ain't nobody even gotten to that thar castle."

Standing, with a wide toothless grin on his face, the old man produced a heavily used and very old hand-and-half sword from a cleverly concealed sheath at his hip. The grin widened as the he took in the red-head's 'you have got to be kidding me' expression.

"I may not look like much, boy," the aged man laughed. "but I still got some fight in me."

Holding his own twin Simitars towards the man, the Half-Elf rolled his bright sapphire eyes and gave his own amused smirk.

"Old man, don't hate me when you lose. I won't hold back on you."

Face now quite serious while switching into a battle stance, The old knight simply replied, "I wouldn't want it any other way." Then, he attacked.

Only a few minutes into their battle,the assassin was already winded.

_He wasn't kidding when he said he had some fight left. Gods, he is good. I need a plan..._

Just as the man went in for the kill, the blue eyed boy moved behind him with inhuman speed and performed a perfect back slice, causing the geezer to drop his weapon and fall to the ground. The fight was finished for him. He had won and now, it was time to complete his original task. As he began his ascent to the castle gates, the red-head heard the man mummble something,causing him to stop and turn around.

"What was that, geezer?"

Close to Death's door, he knew what had to be done. "For besting me, take my prize." he nodded toward a sack leaning against the house. "Take it and say your name when you look into it. The prize will do all the work." With that last breath, the light slowly faded from his deep brown eyes.

The assassin said a spirit blessing for the fallen warrior, then turned to claim what was now his. Picking up the bag and sliding it off of the object revealed a glowing mirror with two sides: one made with quicksilver, the other, polished obsidian.

"Well, here goes nothing. Hope you weren't scenial, old man."

He gripped the small mirror with both of his far too delicate hands and stared into the silver side, an image of tossled red locks with slightly pointed ears showing from underneath and piercing blue orbs gazed back. He took a deep breath and did as he was told.

" Lauxorian"

Nothing.

_Full name, you IS a magical object._

"Alright then, stupid piece of glass: Lauxorian of Kraydal."

At first the light was faint, but within seconds, became as fierce as a raging inferno, consuming everything. In shock, he dropped his strange prize to cover his eyes from the bright light. It lasted but a few moments, before fading just as quick as it had come.

"CLOUD, LOOK OUT!"

Soon it was replaced by more lights and a woman's high pitched scream before a something very large and VERY heavy smashed into the assassin, knocking him out cold.


	3. Chapter 3

a/n: Hello there good people. That's right: I'm not dead! But, anyway, here is chapter three.

I had a someone ask how to pronouce my character's name. It is pronounced LOCK-SOAR-IN.

Enjoy!

(And remember: I love reviews. They will make me write more).

Chapter 3: The Past Is the Past

_T_he scene was called a bloody massacre, the chaotic setting of women and children sobbing in fear, the smell of blood wafting through the air. He felt the tough leather strips wrapped around the dagger hilt as he pulled it out of his victim's heart. Lauxorian was then known as a killer.

Lauxorian, born to an elven mother and a human father, was orphaned from the minute he came into this cruel world, his mother dying only moments after his first breath of air and his father long gone on his own adventures. Many times, he had asked the man who rasied him- his uncle- why his mother had just left him like that.

On one occation, Gylore sat back in his chair- if you could call it that- by the harth and sighed. "Boy, you're mother had no choice really. You see, when elvish women give birth, 85 percent of the time, they die."

The stout man took a long swig of his ale, got up- the seat creaking in relief that the weight of him was gone- and knelt before his ward, staring the young elf/human in the eye. "Don't blame her, Lauxorian. Blame genetics."

Lauxorian seemed to understand, but his irrational human side screamed for the heartache to stop.

As for his father, no questions were ever asked. By the time the red-head was three-years-old, he had heard of the great Thief King, Jorn.

"Lanna would be so disapointed in my brother." his caretaker used to mummble at the very mention of the man's name. Lauxorian vowed at a young age to become the man his father never could be.

The best. At everything.

Now, from a young age, Lauxorian showed talent with a sword. Even though it was only a wooden facsimile used for beating the local kids who dared to tease him, he was really quiet good with a weapon in his hands. Sadly, that just made the adults in the village hate him. Said it was a natural trait from his father.

If only they knew.

Fastforward to the day of the red-head's fifteenth birthday. On that day, six men of considerable wealth came into the small mountain village and began to cause quite the uproar. They demanded to see the son of the thief, that the boy would be their ticket to finding their "freind".

Needless to say, Lauxorian was just short of kidnapped from his home and was, in turn, taught all he knows by these strange thugs who claimed to be old 'family friends.'

For six years, he trained in the ways of the assassin, drinking up every bit of knowlage that these men had to pass on.

Finally came the day of Lauxorian's 'initiation.' All he had to do was loot some old temple to the Winged Goddess, Valkerie. Simple, when a certain priest doesn't get in the way.

Slipping past gaurds as if he was a whisp of smoke, Lauxorian made his way to the ancient building's coffers, once rumored to hold one of the largest stores of gold on the whole planet. The mission was simple: get the gold, then get out.

No one told the newbie that today was the Feast of Union, the day Valkerie met her consort, Chaos. That ment everyone who was anyone at the temple was joyfully eating, drinking, and dancing in the main dining hall.

Right in the way of his prize.

_No matter. I'll just...take them out._

Seconds later, the whole building was buzzing, the priest lying dead on the floor, a hole in his heart.

Lauxorian was roused from his head-trauma induced sleep by a woman shouting from somewhere below the room he was curently in.

_That reminds me: Where the _heck_ am I?_

He swung his legs over the edge of the small overly used bed, but when he tried to stand he was instantly hit with a strong wave of vertigo, causing him to flop back on the bed.

"Gods be damned" he mummbled to himself...and the newcomer to the room.

The first person he saw was a tall demon-like man with pircing red eyes and long, unkept, black hair. The caped man took in the sight of a weary Lauxorian and turned back to the hallway and noted the awakening of their guest in a deep gruff voice.

Next to join was a slinder female with back-length brown hair with the chocolate eyes to match, presumably the woman yelling from downstairs earlier, and, by the defeated look on his face, the man with which she had quarled.

He had spikey blonde lockes that somewhat reminded the red-head of a chocobo, but that was not what had him doing a double take.

The young man had the same blue eyes as he did, the ones that seem to glow as if lit by some unseen light behind them.

Lauxoiran's face lit up as he raised to a sitting position.

"**Are you of elvish kind as well**?" he asked in the native toung of his mother's people.

When the three people gave him confused looks, he got his answer.

"Obviously not. I'm sorry, but I saw your eyes and thought that you were one of my kin. Your just a..." - is voice turned venomous- "human."

As the tone did not go unnoticed, a thick blanket of tension covered the room. It was obvious that the blonde resented that comment, adding to the unease. The woman broke the silence due to the aching need for introductions.

"Well, my name is Tifa"- she jabbed her tumbs at the two men slightly behind her on both sides- "and these two are Cloud - the blonde - and Vincent."

Her smile was sincere - and one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. He could stare at it all day, if Cloud had not asked him for his name so soon; and so full of malice.

"So, what's your name?" Tifa glared at him from the corner of her eyes.

Mearly shrugging, Cloud turned his back on the intruder. "I see it only fair that he tells us."

"Lauxorian of Kraydal. Pleased to make your aquantince, my Lady." Tifa let out a small girlish giggle as the red-head took a low sweeping bow and kissed her worn knuckles.

He smirked up at her from under his crimson bangs before straightening up and pulling her slightly closer.

"A woman who fights? Quite extraordinary. I would love to see you in action."

Cloud wipped around faster than most people could run, a glare full of jelousy boring into the eyes that matched his.

_"I think we're done here, Tifa. We have company downstairs anyway."_

The lovely girl's face took on a look of panic as her friend's words sunk in.

"Oh! I forgot!" She turned to Lauxorian and tugged him by his unually soft hands towards the door.

As they passed Cloud, the crimson haired killer thought the evil thought of: _This should be fun._


End file.
